Unlucky Number 16
by Jellyhair
Summary: Charlie is kidnapped. He is abused and molsted and raped. But now that he's been "broken in" he's elligible to be sold. As a sex slave. Can Don find him in time before Charlie is sold? Or will his body be abused for the rest of his life? Dark!fic NC-17
1. Mistakes

**A/N- **Heloo! Just to let you know, all those who are reading _Ring, Ring _I am still writing that, but I've had this story in my head for quite some time and I thought it was about time that I wrote it down.

**Disclaimers- **Apart from my characters and my imagination I own nothing from Numb3rs.

**Warnings- **If you haven't already read on the bio, this story **will **contain rape and it **will **be graphic (to reinforce all the angst) and there will be sexual prefferences and swearing. I will tell you when the rape occurs in which chapter so you can skip over it if that pleases you so. Some scary shit's gonna down in this story, so don't tell me I didn't warn you.

**Positives- **Charlie whumpage! MANCHUNIANS! (Sorry. Manchester rules.)

* * *

Unlucky Number 16 - Mistakes

_"Hold you in his arms yeah, you can feel his disease." The Beatles, Come Together_

The black Mercedes rolled past the same house once again that hour. It had been driven past the houses since early in the morning, not so much to draw attention to it's self, but enough for the occupants inside could search for their prey. Dark, tinted windows hid the three men inside. A blonde man sat in the front passenger seat, his bored blue gazing out at the empty streets. He sighed as he tried to find something remotely to suit his... 'interests'. But to no avail. Too old, too young... Wrong gender... None of them would give satisfaction to him or his friends. He let out an irritated sigh. It was his time for choosing and nothing had caught his eye all morning.

The man in the driver's seat glanced and him and rolled his eyes. "Don't start, Michael," he said, his Manchunian accent thick with irritation.

Michael turned to the brunette, frustrated. "Don't start what?" he snapped back at him.

He shook his head, "Just don't worry. You'll find some one."

"What, in the dessert of suburbia?"

"You said you wanted a challenge," he gestured with his free hand to the streets around him. "This is your challenge!" he said brightly.

"When I said challenge, I meant something a bit more high risk."

Leo grinned as he turned a corner. "You don't think that doing **this** in broad daylight isn't high risk?"

"Well, you could have chosen something a bit more... fun!"

"Who knows... Maybe you'll get the catch of your life."

"I doubt it in this dump." Michael grumbled. The Brit rolled his eyes at his companion's irritation. He turned around to look at the man in the back seat.

"You alright there, Clark?" the man in the back hadn't said a word since they began in the morning. He looked like an ex bouncer, tattoos and old scars littering his muscled arms. His face was hardened, as if any pity that might've been there had been squeezed out of him He turned to Leo and gave a short nod. This thing about Clark was he barley ever spoke. Only on certain occasions. "What about at home, everything okay there?" He slid his blackberry out of his pocket and checked it. He nodded again. Leo turned back round and kept his eyes on the road. He hear Michael scoff. He turned to him. "What?"

"I still can't believe you call that **place **where we live home!"

"Do we live there?"

"Yeah"

"Do we eat there?"

"Yeah"

"Do we sleep there?"

"Yes!"

"Then it's our home"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't care what you call it, we're going to have to move soon"

"No, first you chose some one, then we bring him back, keep him for a while and **then** we move," Michael looked out of the window again. "Wait. Stop"

The Manchunian stopped the car, frowning. "What is it? You spotted some one?"

Michael frowned also, looking out of the window. "I'm not quite sure..."

-...-

"Charlie, just let me give you a lift to school!" Don said exasperatedly, walking to his car, his brother trailing reluctantly along with him. They had been having this argument for almost half an hour now, both sides refusing to give in.

"You're going to be late for your class!"

"Yeah, and if you give me a lift, your going to be late for work!" Charlie said, his exasperation almost at the same level as Don's. "I'll just cycle, I'll make it in time" Don turned to him raising an eyebrow skeptically, disbelief etched on his face. "What, I will!" He cried, the pitch in his voice going up a notch.

"Whatever you say, Charlie," he said, a smirk in his voice.

The mathematician sighed dramatically, his eyes looking up to the sky as if for answers, "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

Don scoffed, "You're the one who won't accept a lift from his very generous brother!" It was Charlie's turn to raise an eyebrow, "I don't see why you can't just get a car?"

"I told, I'd rather ride my bike"

He grinned at this. "Sorry, I forgot about your 'phobia of cars'"

"I don't have a phobia of cars, I'd just rather ride my bike!" Charlie snapped at Don, glaring at him. His patience was starting to wear thin. He had gone to bed at two in the morning last night marking papers for his class and he wasn't in the mood for Don's brotherly (or in other words evil) humor.

"Then why don't you let me give you a lift?" he teased, jangling the keys in his brother's face. He batted them away, a slight smile on his face.

"Why don't you just fuck off and go to work?" Charlie retorted.

Don still grinned, but decided to tone down his teasing slightly. Charlie clearly wasn't in a teasing mood, "Fine, I'll let you cycle to school"

"Oh, so I need your permission now?" he said, allowing a smile to break his tired features. Don smiled back at him as he unlocked his car and opened the door, "Don, I'll be fine, really"

He raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Last chance..."

_Mistake One..._

"Don, go to work!" Charlie laughed, his bad mood finally breaking. Don reached out and ruffled his all ready unruly curls.

_Not getting in the car with Don_

He grinned back at his brother and got into his SUV, backing out the drive. He didn't even notice the black Mercedes parked across the road and it's occupants that were staring right at him.

-...-

Michael was gazing intently out the the dark windows. Leo was leaning over, the intensity of his friend's stare catching his interest. A tall, black haired man was walking to (presumably) his car, his raven black hair sticking up in tufts as if he had just dried it with a towel. His clothes were smart, but not pricey. He turned to his friend. "Him? Bit out of your league, isn't he?" he turned to Leo, glaring at him.

"No, he isn't! I thought leagues didn't matter anyway?"

"It doesn't, I'm just saying," Michael frowned as he saw the gun in his holster.

"This one might be tricky, fellas. He's packing."

"Packing what?" Leo asked, frowning. He rolled his eyes exasperated.

"It means he has a gun, you idiot!" he told him angrily, returning his attention back to the man.

"Sor-ry that you fucked up our language!" Leo snapped back at him.

"If it weren't for us, you'd be speaking German!" He yelled at him, his voice rising.

"If it weren't for us, you wouldn't be speaking English at all!"

"Hey!" They both turned into surprise to hear Clark's deep voice slice through their argument. "Focus!" They both nodded, and (still throwing dirty looks at each other) put their eyes on the prize. But then, something changed. Something happened. Or rather **some one** happened. A dark, curly haired man followed after the other. The effect hit Michael with a thud. He watched with pleasure as black bangs fell over his face, only to be brushed away again by an angry hand.

"What do you think?"hHe asked Leo, as if for acceptance, though never taking his blue eyes of his newly found prey. Leo was staring with as much intensity as his friend, grinning.

"I think he's bloody gorgeous!"

Michael smiled. He hadn't smiled like that in a long, long time, "Queer."

"After seeing him I'm glad I am one!" he said, his smile almost as perverted as his friend's. "So this is the one you've chosen? Yes? Definitely?"

Michael nodded eagerly, licking his lips, "Definitely."

-...-

Charlie smiled as he watched his brother backed out of the drive way and drove off to work. He looked at his watch. Shit, he was really going to be late now. He walked over to the garage to get his bike.

_Mistake Two: Turning his back_

He didn't even think twice about doing it. But why would he, he did it almost every morning, so why would this morning be different? Why would this morning change his life? He walked his bike out of the garage, keeping his head down, staring at the pavement.

_Mistake Three: Not looking up._

There was no way he could have seen them coming. No way. Even if you know that bad stuff happens all the time, it doesn't mean you can't look out for it constantly. Two shadows came across his vision. Charlie looked up, frowning. Two men stood before him in high price suits, one blonde with intense blue eyes, the other taller with brown hair and grey eyes. And both were smiling at him. They looked a bit too happy for two men who had just found a mathematician late for his class. "Er... Can I help you?" he asked slowly, his voice filled with confusion and a little bit of caution. The taller man's smile widened.

"Trust me, luv you won't need to help us at all" Charlie only had time to register his British accent and that he had just been called 'luv' before a fist slammed forcefully into his face. His bicycle crashed to the ground as he staggered backwards into a large man behind him. He didn't even have enough time to wonder where he came from before the man threw a huge fist into his stomach. He bent over clutching his stomach and coughing and choking in pain.

_Mistake Four: Doubling over_

The pain in his stomach and face made the world spin before him. He stumbled around as he heard a one of the men's voices say. "Look at him! Falling about, tripping over himself. He's adorable!"

Adorable? First luv and now adorable! He looked up to the man who spoke, anger and tears of pain blurring his vision. He still clutched his stomach, fighting the urge to throw up. "What... Do you want?" He asked, his voice constricted in pain and the effort not to retch. The man bent down to Charlie's height. He was tempted to punch the man's face in, but the pain in his stomach protested when he moved his hands away. The man put a hand gently on Charlie's face and he flinched at the almost caring touch.

"Oh sweetheart," He said, his voice filled with sarcastic kindness. "We want you." And he shoved Charlie in the chest making him fall to the ground with an "Oomph!" His head slammed into the cement, bright spots of light flashing before his eyes. He couldn't hold back a groan as it felt like the whole upper part of in body was in pain. He was so confused. He could barley understand what was actually happening, let alone _why_ it was happening. Charlie felt a pair of strong hands lift his upper body and another pair grab his legs. The strong grip on his sides and ankles added more to his pain. He tried to hit blindly at the captor holding his upper half. "Let go of me, you bastards!" He roared, his arms flailing about as if were a muppet with a drunken puppeteer. He heard laughing at his feet and tried to kick at the man clutching his ankles.

"Feisty little bugger, isn't he?" he said to his companion cheerfully.

"Yeah," said a deep voice above his head. "Just means he's gonna be more fun though."

He definitely did not understand_ that_, and he wasn't too sure that wanted to. "Hurry up would you?" it was the british man's voice, further off than the others. He tried to open his eyes but before he could even look at his captor's faces he was thrown into the boot of a car. He rolled over twice before smacking his head at the end. The pain in his head now worse than ever, he managed to prise open his eyes, the world a blur. He managed to make what seemed to be the lid of a car boot and two figures blocking the sunlight. Oh no... The boot door... "Stop!" He shouted desperately, leaping forward, but the car door had already slammed shut. Charlie kneeled on all fours frozen. It was completely dark, there was no light to offer him any kind of comfort. But how much comfort can there be when your trapped in the boot of a car.

He felt the engine roar into life beneath his now shaking hands and feet. His breathing began to grow rapid in fear as he sat down, trembling. The anger was beginning to ebb away now, draining out of him faster than he could imagine. No! No, that was bad. If he stayed angry, he could stop being scared. Fear was not a close friend in a time like this. Red lights lit up the car boot dimly and he looked about him. Not much to see really. Just carpet, two red dim lights. Well, that and no escape. Charlie's head was still spinning, his body and face aching. He kicked angrily at the carpeted wall next to him that he knew would be the back of the passenger seats. "Let me out of here!" The mathematician bellowed. Although, he knew it was no use. They weren't going to let him go because he told them to.

Charlie felt around in his pockets desperately for his phone. He felt tears well in his eyes when he came across the cold thing in his jeans. He let out a cry of relief and flipped it open. No signal. He roared in rage and threw it, only to grab it quickly again to check that it still worked. Charlie wiped the tears away angrily from the corners of his eyes. _"Doesn't matter," _he thought ruefully to himself, "_As if 'Help, I'm in the trunk of a car' could help Don find me anyway,"_ he put it in his pocket. He would keep it until he could reach a place with some reception. He would get out of this, he knew he would.

What if he didn't though? What if he didn't see his Dad again. What if he didn't see Don again? _'Don, go to work!' _The words flashed back into charlies mind. If he died, if these mad men killed him, those would be the last ever words he would say to him. The last thing he would have ever done with his big brother would be to argue with him. Not 'I love you' not 'Thank you for all that you've done', just him telling his brother to go to work. Of course, in his distress, Charlie forgot that he had said it jokingly at the time and that he knew that Don wasn't offended by it. He just thanked god that the last thing he had don with his Dad had not been arguing with him.

The car bounced over a speed bump and Charlie whacked his head painfully on the low ceiling of the boot. The three smacks on his head was enough. He fell (if you could call it falling) to the soft carpet beneath him. Blackness began cloud his vision. "No..." Charlie murmured in weak protest, though there was no one there to protest against. "Dad... Stay awake... Don..." But finally, blackness over took him and his bruised body collapsed against the floor of his soft cage.


	2. Carboots and Boxers

Michael was buzzing. He was estacic with the prospect of new prey. More than that, he was practically jumping about in his seat with excitement. He was grinning from ear to ear and his hands were trembling with anticipation. He had gone too long without prey that fought back. Most of them were to scared or injured to protest. But this one was different. "That was brilliant! That was really, fucking brilliant! We haven't caught one like that in a long time!" Leo grinning too, not with as much vigor as his friend, he definitely looked pleased with himself.

"Christ, you bloody needed it and all!" The Brit laughed, "You were having two at a time and you weren't satisfied." He didn't have the heart to remind him that they couldn't keep him. He was, after all, going to be sold at some point.

"Yeah, well this one's going to be fun," he said, a certain hunger in his eyes, "I can tell. I can't wait to break this one," Leo looked at his trousers with a raised eyebrow.

"Down boy," he said, sarcastically.

Michael looked down too and blushed, "Excuse me for getting excited! Have you seen what's in the boot of our car?"

Leo grinned, "I've gotta say you've picked a good one this time. You think he'll be difficult to break?"

"I hope so," he said gleefully, "I love a good fighter."

The Manchunian frowned. "Hey... He's a bit quiet for a 'fighter' don't you think?"

"If we stop talking, we might hear him," they paused, tuning their ears for any remote sounds of struggle from the boot. There was nothing, other than hum of the engine. "Shit," Michael swore darkly, "Stop the car, we need to have a look."

"Bloody hell, not here!" he squealed, "Don't you think people will notice us looking at somebody in the boot of a car?"

"Yeah, well if you don't check soon we might have to take the 'some' off that 'some body'."

Rolling his eyes, he put his emergency lights on and pulled over on the hard shoulder, "Why do you have to be so bloody dramatic all the time?" he muttered angrilly. "If we get caught, you take the fall."

"Fine by me! Doesn't matter if he's dead," all three of them got out of the car, slamming their doors behind them. They opened the lid of the trunk and found the man they had picked up, unconsicous, blood in his black curls. If it weren't for the bruises on his face and the blood in his hair, he could have looked as if he were sleeping, instead of being knocked out cold.

"Oh shit, he's dead!" Leo shouted, his grey eyes popping. Michael put two fingers on Charlie neck, feeling for the pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he found a steady beating beneath his fingers. He turned angrilly to him and slapped Leo across the head. "Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

"He's not dead, you prick!"

"He's not?"

"No and thanks for shouting it out to the fucking world!"

"We're on a motorway, who's going to hear us?"

"Free way."

"What ever."

Clark turned the young man onto his back and lifted his slightly-too-large t-shirt. There was a large, purple bruise forming from where he had punched Charlie in the stomach. "What do you think, Clark?" Michael asked, frowning at the bruise. "Internal injuries?" He frowned at the bruise, placing two fingers on it and pushing down. The frowned and let out a small moan. Leo and Michael both grinned with pleasure, happy to see their captive in pain, how ever slight. He shook his head at the former question. Clark lifted the man's head, black curls dotted with blood falling between his large fingers. A bruise was forming on his right cheek where Leo had struck him, but that was not his main concern.

He saw the head injury, that was causing the dots of blood in the man's curls. "Concussion?" Leo asked, looking at the man. Clark nodded in answer to his question. He smiled. The man looked beautiful when he was as sleep. Michael looked at his friend's smile and grinned.

"Bet you don't get one's like this in London, do you?"

"For the hundreth time, it's Manchester!"

"I still don't get what the difference is."

"I'll explain it to you later... again," he grumbled.

Clark put Charlie's head back on the floor and walked round the car to the door, Leo following suit. Michael, however, put his head in the boot and placed his lips on the young man's, "Sweet dreams, baby"

-...-

Lights. Dim, red lights were glowing against Charlie's eye lids. When he opened his eyes, the pain would be too much, so he didn't. There was a dull throbbing pain in his head, pounding away, making it impossible for him to think straight. He lifted a hand slowly to where it was hurting and felt something warm. Warm and sticky. Jam? No, it couldn't be. Since when was jam ever warm? And why would it be on his head? Warm and sticky and on his head. Blood. Something bad had happenned. He needed to know where he was. Charlie tried to get up but his head collided with the ceiling and he let out a moan, returning to his curled up position on the floor.

Dim, red lights and a low ceiling. Cave? No, he wasn't in a cave. The ground was too soft. But it was hard too. Something soft on something hard. A rug, maybe? Perhaps, he was in a house. Maybe he was in his house. But... then why would he be on the floor? And anyway, it couldn't be his house. The floor was shaking and there was a low rumbling sound around him. Earth quake? No, you don't get earth quakes in L.A. Maybe the building was falling. But he didn't even know if we was **in** a building! Frustrated, Charlie tried opening his eyes again, only to recieve more pain. Carpet, rumbling, shaking... Maybe he was on a boat. But there weren't any waves. And no rocking. Where the hell was he?

Slowly, he managed to rip his eye lids apart. His chocolate brown eyes tried frantically to focus on his surrondings. He blinked 'till the world around him became clear. Why was he in the boot of a car? Charlie didn't understand, especailly as the last thing he remembered was going to school. He was late. Shit, now he was really late! But there were those two men. He shuddered at the thought of them. They were bad. Why were they bad? What did they want with him? Was this their trunk he was in? He couldn't think straight, his thoughts fuzzy with confusion and pain and he was angry that his thoughts were so muddled in his head.

Charlie laid his cheek on the floor and winced as the forming bruise was put under pressure. How did he get that? _"Trust me luv, you won't need to help us at all." _He had an English accent. And he called him 'luv' for some reason. But why was he he important? Then Charlie remembered the fist slamming into his face, the pain and shock, his bicycle crashing to the ground. The other man had laughed as he staggered about. But there was another one. He came up behind him... He wasn't good either. Lying on his back, Charlie tentativly lifted up his t-shirt, as if scared of what he would find under there.

It was hard to make out the colour properly in the little light provided, but it was large, it was dark and it was on his stomach. He invoulantarilly flinched at the memory of some one's fist crashing into him. They'd carried him to the car. They didn't even drag him, they just picked him up and threw him in the trunk. He lay there for a moment, one hand on his rising chest, the other lying limply beside him. At least he knew how he got here, now_ why _was he here? That was going to be more tricky. _"Oh Sweetheart, we want you." _Another memory errupted into life in Charlie's head. Charlie remembered the tone of his voice, the look he gave him, the way he touched his face. It was wrong. The way he did all of those things were wrong. He couldn't figure out why, but he knew it.

And what had he meant by 'we want you'? What ever it was these men wanted him for, it didn't sound good. Feeling around in his pocket, he felt his slightly battered phone there. Charlie flipped it open, but all hopes were crushed when he saw the phone symbol with a line through it. He sighed and looked about him again. There was no obvious way of escape. He crawled (as best he could in such a low space) to what he assumed would be the boot lid and tried desperatly to push it open. Obviously, it failed.

The mathematician saw something on the wall, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He crawled towards and felt it with his hands. It was metal and cold, air rushing through it. Charlie brought his face right to it and saw what it was. It was a vent. A vent? Why would anyone put a vent in their car car. But then he realised, with horror that if these men had put a vent in their car, then they must have kidnapped before. God only knew what had happened to them. But, it did mean that they had wanted their previous victims alive. Maybe there was a sliver of hope in this mess. He put his face to the vent, gulping in the fresh air, rubbing his arms vigorously as the cold air hit his skin. After filling his lungs with fresh oxygen, he peered through the vent.

The cold air made his eyes water, but he managed to look out at his surrondings. It wasn't looking good. They were on a stretch of road, seemingly to no where, trees all around him. Charlie didn't recognise any of his surrondings, though there wasn't really alot to recognise. And what was worse, there seemed to be no other vehicles on the road apart from theirs. Where ever he was going, it wasn't near people. If they had done this before, then maybe he wasn't targeted because of who he was. They hadn't called him by his name... Maybe he was random. But if they didn't want him for his talents, then the options that were left meant that it was looking good for Charlie.

Charlie felt uncontrollable fear well up inside him and he tried to push it back down. What would would they do to him? If they didn't want his skills, then what did from him? What if they killed him? What if they slit his throat or worse? What if they were sexual sadists and grabbed him because they wanted to torture him. Crime scene photos that looked like stills from snuff films flashed through his mind. He suddenly wished that he didn't know about the things people would do to one another. Ignorance seem bliss to this maddening panic. The very thought of the things they could do to him made his breathing grow ever more rapid. Charlie's eyes darted around for any means of escape, but of course, there was no chance.

He tried to prise open the vent, but it remains firmly screwed to the wall. He let out half yell half sob as the vent refused to move. He pulled at it until his fingers were red. _No. No, this can't be happening, this can't be happening! _Charlie thought frantically to himself. _I have to get out of here. I can't stay here, I can't, I can't, I can't. _His thoughts were as eratic as his breathing. He was close to hypervantalation and this was far from helpful. _No. Nonononono, I can't panic. Panicing's bad. When you panic, you can't breathe. I need to breathe, I need to live, I need to get out of here!_

As if this were the one thing that would save him, Charlie began to kick the back of the seats. "Hey!" He bellowed, kicking the wall as if for all the world he was Thumper out of _Bambi_. "Hey! Let me out of here now! I work with-" He was on the verge of saying FBI, but then he thought of his brother. If he mention the FBI, he might drag Don into this. It was bad enough that he was in this horific mess, but he wasn't about to drag his brother down to join him. "I work with the NSA, you dicks!" Charlie roared kicking the back of the seats furiously. "Let me go!" But, as was excpected, there came no reply. He let out a shuddering breath and lied back on the floor, putting his shaking hands over his face.

He couldn't remember feeling so helpless. Is this what it felt like to drown? To have all the air pushed out of your lungs; the water suddenly becoming solid and unfightable, as everything around you presses in as you struggle to breathe. The mathematician tried not to succumb to tears. He couldn't break, not now. He had to stay strong, so that when, no, _if_ the chance of ecsape appeared, he would be ready to grab it. Charlie allowed himself to curl up on the floor, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach. The vent grew fuzzy as his eyes clouded over with the tears he couldn't stop. The blood spotted curls fell on his face as he stared dimly at the vent across from him, praying this would be over.

-...-

Charlie had no idea how long he had laid there. It had at least been over an hour and in that time he hadn't moved once from his spot on the floor. He just lied there, staring at the metal window on the wall, occasionaly checking his phone for signal. He had given up pounding on the sides of the boot and decided the only way he would have a chance of getting out of here would be to conserve his energy. It seemed like a good idea too, especailly as it gave him the satisfaction of knowing the men would want to hear him struggle. They liked it when he fought. Charlie shuddered at this.

The silence in the boot unnerved him. Apart from the sound of air whistling through the hole in the boot and the low rumble of the engiene, there was nothing else. He hadn't heard a human voice other than his own for over an hour, so he had taken the liberity of singing to himself. He wasn't quite sure how _The White Stripes_ could help him in his time of need, but some how they did. _"Hey little apple blossom, what seems to be the problem?" _Charlie sang quietly, his foot naturally tapping to the tune in his head. He didn't want to hear those sickos singing to himself. His voice was raspy and he would have sounded a bit better if he was louder. Still, it would have to do. _"All the ones you tell your troubles to, they don't really care for you. Come and tell me what you're thinking, 'cos just when the boat is sinking" _Charlie's stomach clenched at the next words. _"A little light is blinking and I will come and rescue you."_ Pretty soon afterwards, Charlie had managed to sing the whole _De Stijl _album.

He felt the car turn and he had to dig his fingers into the carpet to stop himself rolling about. He scrambled to the vent and stared out. It had been the first time in this whole journey that they had turned. He heard the gravel crunch beneath the tyres and saw the trees moving by. They were no longer a green and brown blur. They were slowing down. Charlie's heart began to thump inside his chest. He crawled over to the lid of the boot. He was going to be ready for them. He wasn't normally one for attack, but he wasn't just going to let these guys do what ever they wanted to them. He was going to fight, even if they liked it. The car pulled to a halt and the engine stopped, extinguishing the red lights and leaving him with only the dim barred daylight from the vent.

Andreniline began to pump through Charlie's system, his body trembling with nerves. He crouched near the boot lid, ready to spring at them when they opened it. He heard muffled voices from outside. He heard the blood pounding in his ears and the thud of the boot lid opening. Charlie leapt from his place with a yell, pouncing on the man who had opened the boot. They landed on the floor with a crash, Charlie snarling at the stranger beneath him. If anyone he knew Charlie could have seen him then, they wouldn't had recognised him. He looked insane. His brown eyes were large and wild, the blood on his face making him look even more mad. He scratched, hit, punched, kicked and did any other thing that might cause the son of a bitch harm. Charlie screamed at him, swear words streaming from his mouth, his flailing fists pounding into every inch of his flesh. This lasted for a few minutes, but then one of the men grabbed him from behind. He turned around in his vice like grip and kicked forcefully him between the legs. He went down with cry of pain and Charlie ran.

Charlie ran faster than he had ever done in his life. He didn't have time to think, just allowed his legs to power him through the trees. He told himself to breathe deeply, loosing his breath wasn't an option. Getting caught wasn't an option. He heard thudding behind him and he knew that one of the men was following him. Branches whipped past as he ran and his chest burned. He would have felt scared, but there just wasn't time. Everything was happening so fast he felt like he had left all of his emotions in boot of the car. But then, catastrophe struck at the worst time possible. His foot somehow got wrapped round an upturned and he fell. It was almost as if it happened in slow motion as Charlie hit the ground with a bang. He tried desperately to scramble up, but he had been to slow. The large man had already reached him and picked him up by the collar of his t-shirt.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Charlie screamed, punching and kicking him as if he were trying to swim. The man said nothing and began to walk with him still held up by hand. "You bastard! Let. Me. Go!" he screamed and he punched him in the face, hearing the sickening crunch of the mans' nose beneath his fist. That did it. The man's large hand smacked against Charlie's rear, making him cry out in shock and pain. He then slammed the smaller man into a tree, his strong hands holding the wriggling mathematician in place. His hands were pressing down hard on Charlie's chest, making it difficult to breathe. He didn't know whether it was the man's hands pressing down on him or the panic that was suffocating him more.

"Now, listen to me you little bitch. If you _dare_ try to do that again, I'm gonna do more then spank your ass. You got it?" the man's wild eyes bored into Charlie's wide, brown ones. Blood ran from his nose, his face pale. He looked insane. Charlie nodded, not knowing whether he could find his voice to speak. The man tossed the trembling mathematician over his shoulder, as if he were a sack of potatoes, holding him firmly with his hand. He didn't try to fight again, terrifed of what he might do to him. He lay as still as he could over the mans shoulder, blood rushing to his head, his ass still stinging from where he got smacked.

As soon as he was put on the ground and those meaty hands were off him, he tried to run again. But the blonde haired man grabbed him by the waist and spun him around. "Where do you think are you going, sweetie?" he shoved him in the sort of circle the three men had created. Charlie tried to control his shaking and glared deffiantly at the man who had spoke.

"Stop calling me, sweetie," he growled menacingly. The man smiled happily and stood forward. He stroked the side of his face with dried blood on it. Charlie flinched away from the almost loving touch. He must have been the one Charlie had jumped earlier. Fresh bruises were forming on his face and scratch marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin.

"I'm so sorry about your injuries," The man said, no remourse in his voice, though the smile on his face remained. "We didn't want to hurt you. But it is very hard to convice a total stranger to get into a car with them," Charlie stared coldly at him, though the fear was still raging in his insides. "Although... You did attack me and my friend just now..." the man slapped Charlie hard accross the face, making him stumble backwards, the world tilting dangerously. He fell into the brunnete, who caught him with open arms. He felt the man's arms wrap themselves around him, hands gently stroking chest.

"You were right," the Englishman said to his friend, gazing at Charlie. "He is pretty isn't he?"

"Get off me!" Charlie squealed, the panic high in his voice, breaking the man's hold on him. But this just seemed to make them happier. His whole body was shaking and he couldn't even hide it. Charlie didn't understand what was making them smile like that, or why they just kept staring at him. "What do you want?" Charlie said, trying to reclaim some of the menace he previously had in his voice. He was so confused.

They decided to ignore this question and all three of them walked round him, staring at him skeptically, as deciding something to buy. He spun around trying to keep eye contact with one of them. "What... What are you doing?" he asked nervously. The blonde held up his hand to silence Charlie, as though he were concentrating on something. They did this for a few minutes, pacing round him as if it were some sort of weird ritual. He felt anger surge up in him. What were they doing, a slow verion of a rain dance? "What do you want from me?" he yelled at them, stamping his foot. The British one raised an eyebrow at this.

"No need for a tantrum," he said, cooly. They had stopped pacing now, though the mathematician glared at him furiously. "We want you to strip," Charlie spluttered at this, his eyes popping.

"You... You want me to what?" he squeeked, his voice going up a notch.

"We want you to strip," the man said simply, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, "Now, strip."

Charlie burst out laughing. He didn't why he started laughing while he was in such a serious situation, but it sounded like such a crazy thing to do, to strip infront of three complete strangers who had kidnapped him. "I'm not going to do that!" He said, incredulously. "How easy do you think I am?" they didn't find it so amusing. They just stood there at stared at him, waiting for him to take off his clothes. The large man who had grabbed Charlie in the trees opened the car door and pulled out a gun. Charlie stopped grinning instantly, staring at the weapon.

"Not so funny now is it?" the British one spoke. "Now, strip," Charlie was still gazing at the weapon, as if he had never seen one before.

"No."

The blonde one raised his light eyebrows, "It's not a request."

"I said no," Charlie said, a slight quiver in his voice. The large man joined friends and he cocked the gun.

"Strip," Charlie was shaking worse then ever now. He was tempted, _so _tempted to chance the bullet and run. But then he thought of Don and Dad. He couldn't do that to them. He couldn't ask them bury some one else they loved. Swallowing, he reached down and pulled at his shoe laces with fumbling fingers. He slipped his Converse off and took off his socks. He rose and found they were still watching him and the man still had the gun in his hand. "Go on," Tears began to fill his eyes as, slowly, he took off his t-shirt and let it drop to the floor next to his shoes and socks. He wrapped his arms protectively round his bare stomach, as though trying to sheild himself against these men. They edged closer to him and began to walk around him again. Charlie had never felt so self conscious. "...Well, go on!" The blonde said, exasperated.

Charlie blushed furiously as he fumbled with the button and zip of his trousers. He considered leaving them on but then he saw the hard look on the man's face, the one who held a gun. He knew the man wouldn't be scared to shoot him if he didn't obey. Slowly, almost painfully, Charlie pulled down his trousers, letting them fall around his ankles. "Step out of them," he did as he was told, panic rising in his throat like bile. A smile broke their faces, as Charlie stood there in his boxers, trembling. He felt sick, as if he was on show, "Continue."

He started. "Wh... What?" Charlie stared at them, his eye big and fearful.

The Brit's smile widened, "When I said strip, I meant it luv," this couldn't be happening. Oh god, this couldn't be real! This had to be some sick, horrific nightmare that he really needed to wake up from. His breathing began to go at a much more hectic rate, as did his heart.

"Please..." he sounded so pathetic. But he couldn't do this. It was too much. He was already in his boxers, why did they need more?

The blonde grinned. "Strip," He said the word with a sick relish.

"N-no," Charlie whimpered. The large man had lost his patience. He strode forward and grabbed Charlie's curls, making him yelp in pain. As soon as his mouth was open, the man shoved the gun in to the already terrified mathematician's mouth. The metal weapon poked the back of Charlie's mouth, making him gag. He stared in wide eyed horror at the man. He glared at Charlie with such hatred, his knees nearly gave way from fear.

"Are you still going to protest now, boy?" the man snarled at him. "Harder to fight when there's a gun in your mouth, isn't it?" Charlie couldn't even nod his head in reply. All he could do was stare at this mad man. There Charlie stood, wearing nothing but his boxers, a gun shoved forcefully inside his mouth. He trembled, sweat trickling down the side of his face and tears down his cheeks. The metalic taste was foul in his mouth and it was being pushed so far back in his mouth Charlie was close to vomiting. His nostrils were flaring as his main source of oxygen was being blocked. "Now, when I take this gun out of your mouth, you're going to take off those panties of yours. Alright?" he nodded as best he could with a gun in his mouth. The man pulled the gun from Charlie's mouth and he gasped in relief, coughing as he tried to fight off his gag reflexes. Swallowing down the strange taste in his mouth, he took a few secconds to breathe. But then he remembered what he was supposed to do.

The man with the gun was grinning now, as was the Brit. Their greedy eyes upon him, they watched as he put his trembling fingers under his waist band. Charlie closed his eyes as more hot tears began to spill down his cheeks. He could almost feel their smiles upon him. Barely managing to choke back a sob, he pulled down his boxer and rose again, his eyes still firmly shut. He didn't want to know what look were on their faces. "Keep you arms by your side," he was instructed and again, he obeyed, to humiliated and scared to do otherwise.

Charliee felt wrong just doing what there ass holes said. Even though a gun was pointed right to his head, he still felt pathetic. He should put up a fight, not standing here with his eyes shut because he was too scared to know what they were looking like while they were watching him. But Charlie just stood there, completely naked, while these three sick bastards ogled his bare body. Tears continuously ran down Charlie's heated cheeks and he quickly wiped them off, as if he did it quicker, people would forget that they had been there. "Hands by your side remember," a voice scolded teasingly in his ear. He jumped. When had he go so close? He felt the other men draw in closer as well and he couldn't stop the word 'rape' flashing in his head.

"So pretty!" a voice purred in his ear. More tears fell from behind his closed eyelids. He couldn't contain the small sob that broke from him. _Just think of Don and Dad _Charlie told himself, over and over again. _Just think of Don and Dad. You're doing this for them, you can't let them shoot you. You can't let them bury some one else, not after Mom_ This mantra rolling around in his head helped him a bit. He felt a smooth hand on his naked back and he flinched. The blonde grinned. He loved to see him jerk away from his touch. Slowly, his hand slid downwards. Charlie whimpered and the man's grin widened. He stroked tenderly where the large man had hit Charlie before, the pink mark glowing on his skin. "It must hurt _so _much," he tensed at this unwelcome touch. He just wanted run, run as far away from these men as possible. He felt another hand on his bare chest. It was different to the other one, rougher, more calloused.

"You made such a fine choice!" the Englishman exclaimed quietly. He stroked Charlie's chest, rubbing one of Charlie's nipples, but he could still feel the other man stroking his back. This was wrong. Oh god, this was so, so wrong. He felt dirty, having all these hands fondling him. _Don, Dad, Don, Dad, Don, Dad, Don, Dad. Just think of them, you're doing this for them, just keep thinking of them _But these thoughts were soon interrupted when the hand on his chest slowly went downwards. He let out a yelp when he found a hand on his member. Charlie's tear filled eyes shot open and he found himself only a few inches away from the British man, his grey eyes boring into him.

"Please," he begged again, unable to stop lower lip quivering. "Please... J-just don't."

"But why shouldn't I? Don't you like it?" the man grinned, his white teeth glinting, his grip on his cock tightening. Charlie yelped in horror, his eyes widening.

"I said don't!" he yelled at the man. Why were they doing this? Wasn't there any other way of torturing him. Why did they to make him feel so dirty and humiliated? "Just stop, please!" he cried out angrilly, tears racing down his face. He had clenched his hands into tight fists, wishing he could punch the bastard's face in. He was still grinning at Charlie, his hand still around member. For few moments he just stared at Charlie, but then he let go. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The other man's stroking had ceasced too and they now stood, just staring at him. His brown eyes flitted between them nervously. "Why did you have to do that?" He murmered.

"We had to make sure."

"Make sure of what?"

"That we had made the right purchase," the British man said simply, as if he expected Charlie to know this.

The staring lasted for a few minutes, before the blonde said, "...You can put your clothes back on now," in all his life, Charlie had never got dressed so quickly. They sniggered as he scrambled to put his clothes, putting them on as if his life depended on it. When he had his t-shirt and boxers on, he reached for his trousers. "Leave your trousers and sneakers," he looked up, confusion written on his tear-streaked face.

"W-what?"

"You heard me. Leave them," Charlie glanced at his trousers, thinking of his phone. There was no way he could descretly take it out of his pocket. He was so close! God, if he could just reach it...

"Why?" the man smiled. God, how he hated that smile.

"Because the clothes you're wearing are all that you need," he stared at him, trying to decide what to do. "If you don't do as you're told, my friend will put a bullet in your head. And I wouldn't want to waste that gorgeous face of yours ruined just because you couldn't behave," why did they keep calling him gorgeous and pretty? It made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Fine," Charlie snarled, stepping away from his trousers. He looked younger than thirty, standing in nothing but his boxers and t-shirt, shaking. The British man picked up the trousers and started to rumage through the pockets. Charlie watching with daunting horror as went through his jeans, silently praying that he wouldn't find his phone.

"Is this what you were so desperate for?" he asked, holding up the black cell in his hand. Charlie heart plumeted what felt like a thousand feet. "You were going to call some one, weren't you? Aww, were you going to ask mummy for help?"

"My Mom's dead," he said coldly, staring at the man with venom.

"Oh, I am sorry," he said pouting, reaching out to stroke Charlie's face. He jerk away from his hand angrilly, making the man smile. "Time to go to your new home, sweet cheeks," He stared at him.

"What 'new home'?" he asked cautiously, though he wasn't sure the answer would make him feel better or worse. The word 'home' unnerved him. It probably meant that he would be staying with these ass holes longer than he had anticipated.

"Well, you're just going to have to wait and find out, won't you?" he answered, giving the mathematician a big smile. Before Charlie could even think about running, the ground had suddenly been swept from beneath his feet. The blonde man had lifted him up in his arms, making Charlie squeal shock.

"What are you doing?" Charlie yelled in panic, his wide eyes looking at the ground bellow that seemed an alarming long way away. He hadn't realised how tall this man actually was.

"Well, you must be _so_ tired after your trip today..." the man smiled, stroking his face with his thumb.

"I can walk!" Charlie growled and he instantly tried wriggle free out of the man's grip. Until he felt something cold and hard being pressed into the back of his head. He turned slightly to see the large man holding the gun to his head, the barrel entangled with his sweat-dampened curls.

"I wouldn't do that, my dear," the man said, still stroking Charlie's face. "A bullet to the head is very difficult to live from."

"We're going to park the car, Michael," Michael. Charlie made a mental note to him self that the blonde man holding him was called Michael. "Can I trust you not to shag him while we're gone?" Charlie blanched at this, his mouth a gape with newly found horror.

"Thank you Leo, but I do have _some _self control," Michael retorted sarcastically. Leo. The English one was Leo. Charlie watched as they drove off. As soon as they were out of side (or rather as soon as he was out of shooting range) he instantly tried to wriggle out Michael's arms. The grip around his body tightened and he was drawn closer to him his chest. But this only made him panic more and fight harder. Michael laughed, placing a kiss on one of his cheeks. Charlie blushed furioulsy and tried to move away from the man's lips. "Always struggling!" he exclaimed, smiling.

"Let. Me. Go," He snarled. The man smirked.

"Alright," The arms clutching Charlie suddenly vanished for a seccond, making drop. He yelped, instinctibly grabbing his shoulder to stop himself from falling. "Are you sure you want me to let you go?" All he got in answer was a venomous glare. Michael began to walk and Charlie realised he was still clinging on to him. Embarrased and angry at himself for being so pathetic, he released his grip. "If I had let you walk, you would have run as soon as I put your feet on the groud and you know it," he felt humiliated being carried like a baby in this sick bastard's arms. Charlie wanted to fight him off so badly, but he knew it would be futile. He couldn't deny that he was terrified; he was still shaking and Michael could feel it. His arms lay limply on his stomach, his hands gripping his t-shirt like a life line.

He wished that he had some trousers on; it might've given him a little bit of his dignity back. And also, he wouldn't have to feel the man's hand holding his naked thigh. The fear in Charlie's stomach was making him feel ill. "What's your name, Sweetie?"

He glared at him, but he couldn't stop the stammer in his voice, "D-did you really think I was going to tell you?"

Michael grinned, "No... But, then again we could always ring some one you know on your phone... They'd tell us. Maybe, we'd even take the liberty of picking them up... I'm sure you have some very attractive friends..." Charlie paled. No. He wasn't going to drag _anyone _down with him in this. Even if it meant he was on his own.

"Ch-Charlie," he answered quickly. "My name is Charlie."

"Your full name?" he asked exasperated.

Charlie swallowed, "Charles Edward Eppes."

"What a handome name!" Michael smiling, hitching Charlie up a bit more. "I'm so glad I chose you."

"Ch-chose?" He asked, confused. His grin widened, loving the perplexed look on his captive's beautiful face. But he didn't answer his question. They walked (or rather Charlie squirmed and Michael carried him) until they reached a large building. It looked like an abondened stared up at it with large eyes. _This is probably my 'new home' then _he thought grimly to himself. It didn't exactly look welcoming. It didn't look like any one lived there at all. But when Michael kicked at the large metal door for some one to let them in, he was saw just how mistaken he was. The large concrete floor was covered in old mattresses, dirty sheets, worn out pillows and men in their underwear and t-shirts.


	3. No Way Out

Charlie stared in horror, his mouth silghtly open. His brown eyes searched over all of the men. They were dotted accross the large room and they looked up, with what appeared to be mild interest, at Charlie and Michael. Michael walked over with the dumb founded Charlie to a mattress near a corner. What disturbed Charlie most of all was how so unperterbed they all seemed. Only a few seemed scared but most of them were ignoring him. They almost seemed relaxed, lounging about on their mattresses, staring up at the ceiling or the walls. He was right about his suspicions though, the men had wanted their previous victims alive, he just had had no idea how long for. Charlie's mind lapped up the numbers. Fiftteen. How on earth had three men managed to kidnap and capture fifteen men, not get caught and not have the men run away? Charlie's head felt like it would explode with his confusion.

Michael placed him on a mattress in the corner of the room, kissing him on the cheek (much to Charlie's disgust) and began to make his way through the crowd of men. Charlie watched as passed by the men, stoking the heads of a few. What he couldn't understand was why they just sat there and took it! They didn't even flinch, they just sat there and let him touch them. "Hey," Charlie turned in surprise to see a man next to him. He was adorned in the same clothes as Charlie: underwear and t-shirt.

"Hey..." Charlie wanted so badly to ask him questions, but there were so many of them in his head that they just seemed to clog his throat and he couldn't get a word in edgeways. He just sat there and gawped at this total stranger. He seemed used to it though. The man looked about in his early forties, his light brown spiked up in an almost David-Tennant fashion. He smiled kindly at the shaking mathematician and offered a hand.

"I'm Jeremy," Charlie took his hand within his trembling own.

"Charlie," he managed whisper. Jeremy passed a critical eye over Charlie's face.

"I'd better look at your injuries," he grabbed a sheet from one of the mattresses next to Charlie's and a water bottle. He looked up at Charlie and smiled reasuringly. "Don't worry. I'm a doctor, I know what I'm doing."

"You're... You're a doctor?" Charlie managed to choke out.

"Well, technically speaking I _was_ a doctor," he murmered, pouring out some of the water from the bottle onto the sheet. Charlie raised his eye brow at the sheet. It looked so filthy it would probably do more harm then good. "It's cleener than it looks." With no other option, Charlie allowed Jeremy to wipe away the dried blood on his face.

"I, um," Charlie could barely get the words out of his mouth. "How... Where...?"

"Where are we?" Jeremy asked for him. Charlie nodded. "I'm afraid I have no idea."

"I don't... I don't get it?"

"Don't get what, Charlie?"

"Why don't you all just run away?" Jeremy looked up. "I mean there's fifteen of you and three of them, you could easilly overtake them."

"Well, reason number one's over there," he said nodding to the end of the room. Charlie looked at the end of the room and nearly gagged. Two men in khaiki uniform were standing against the wall and both were holding machine guns. God only knew why Charlie hadn't spotted them before. "If we try escape, they open fire," his brown eyes popped at the sight of those two men.

"What about reason number two?" he asked, though he could hardly see how it would be better than reason number one. Jeremy smiled at him again and started to clean the wound on Charlie's head. "What, you're just not going to tell me?"

"It's not a 'not', it's a 'can't'," Charlie tilted his head slightly, confused. "Their job isn't just to make sure that we don't escape. They listen in on our conversation and if we talk about the wrong thing, they shoot."

"And reason number two is one of those things?"

"Reason number two is one of those things. Plus, the fact that we're in the middle of nowhere"

"You said you didn't know where we are."

"The middle of nowhere isn't somewhere, it's the middle of nowhere," the mathematican shrugged.

"Fair enough."

He looked about him again, taking in his surrondings. "So, why am I here?" Jeremy smiled again. "Another one of those things you can't tell me?"

"I'm afraid so."

Charlie sighed, "What about you, were you 'chosen' as well?"

"Yeah. We all were."

"How come?"

Jeremy smiled sadly at him. "Because they wanted us," Charlie couldn't help but shiver at that.

"So, um... How long have you been here?"

Jeremy stared at him hard, "You sure you want to know?" Charlie nodded. Jeremy sighed and gently turned Charlie's head to look at the bruise forming on his cheek. "Two years and a half."

"Two years and a half?" Charlie squealed, his words echoing around the room. Some of the men looked at him and he blushed. "Sorry. That's how long you've been here?" Jeremy nodded and Charlie gawped at him. Two and half years was _long_ to be held captive. Charlie noticed the gold ring on his finger. He was married. He looked at Jeremy and said remoursefully. "I'm sorry."

Jeremy glanced at his ring and shrugged. "No need." Charlie thought about what Jeremy had said though. If Jeremy had been here for that long, then how long was he going to stay? He blanched at the thought of staying here with those men for two years and a half. It was a wonder that Jeremy hadn't gone insane with the loss of freedom.

"What about the others?" he asked. "Have they been here for as long?"

"No, most only for a few months," Charlie face paled again. Months. How were these men being kept prisoner for so long? And why were they so relaxed? He swallowed. He had thought earlier on that there was a chance he could get out of this. But if fifteen men couldn't manage to escape, then how the hell was going to?

-...-

Don was looking through the case file that had crash landed on his desk that morning. It was gruesome; a serial killer who was targeting school children. The kill it's self was merciful enough and the children weren't molested. But thing about this case that made it even worse than the fact that it involved children, was how the killer would then send the remains to the parents. The last parent who had recieved their dead child had had a heart condition, and on seeing the body, keeled over and had a heart attack. He had killed three already and they couldn't afford to waste any more time. So when he got a phone call off Larry, he didn't really have alot of patience.

"Hello?"

"Don?"

"Yeah Larry, what's up?"

"Hello, Don. I was just calling on behalf of Charles. I normally wouldn't, but under these circumstances I thought it would be best-

"Larry," Don quickly cut in. "Why are you ringing me? What's wrong with Charlie."

"Oh, nothing that I know of. I'm just a little concerned as Charles hasn't turned up for any of his lessons," Don froze. Charlie would never miss his lessons. Charlie had never missed his lessons. He looked at his watch. Quater past twelve. It had been quater to nine when he had left his brother. There was no way he would be this late, not unless some thing had happened.

"He hasn't turned up at Cal Sci yet?"

"Well, not that I know of," Don had already grabbed his car keys, rushing to the lift as if his life depended on it.

"Larry, is he there or not?"

"No."

"Thanks," he snapped his phone shut. It was enough for Don to go into a panic. He couldn't find any reason why Charlie wouldn't turn up for his classes. He opened his phone and rang Charlie's number. "C'mon," he murmered to himself, praying that Charlie would pick up. "C'mon Charlie answer the phone," But it just kept ringing.

-...-

When Don skidded to the drive way, he felt as if his heart had been given an electric shock. He jumped out of the car when he saw Charlie's bike abonded on the floor, the only thing keeping it company were a few drops of blood. It was only a few drops, nothing that suggested a fatality, but enough for the alarm bells in Don's head to go off. Hands trembling slightly, he flipped open his phone and rang Charlie's number, willing for him to answer.

-...-

Large metal doors were wrenched open. Charlie looked up and saw Leo, smiling at him, leaning casually against one of the doors. "Charlie luv," he said in a sing song voice. "You have a phone call." Charlie stared at him incredulously. He wondered whether this was some kind of sick joke to keep his hopes up, but he did hear his phone ringing in the room behind him. "Well, come on, we don't have all day!" Charlie looked to Jeremy for some kind of guidance. He gave a small smile and nodded. With this confirmation and the burning desire to pick up his phone, managed to stand shakilly to his feet. He wobbled dangerously, but managed to make his way across the sea of dirty mattresses, occasionaily bumping into one of the men and murmered apologizes over and looked distrustfully at Leo, but went inside anyway, and the large metal doors were slammed close behind them.

Jeremy sighed and collapsed onto the mattress, one hand clasped over his eyes. "Oh Christ, why did they have to bring in another one?" he moaned to no one in paticular. "There was no need, no _bloody _need at all. They've got enough already!" one of the men crept close to him. His name was Rowan and was in his early forties like Jeremy, his once bright eyes now dull. He had been with Leo and Michael for a year. Jeremy looked up at him, his eyes woeful. "Do you think he's gonna figure it out? You know, why we're here?" Jeremy asked him.

Rowan leant against the metal wall, shaking his head, "Nah. No one figures out why they're here. Not until it's too late anyway."

"Do you think I should have told him?"

"No, because A: You'd be a dead man if you did and B: It wouldn't have helped him anyways. He can't get out of here, it'd just make him panic. Then he'd do something reckless and get himself killed."

"Do you think it's better?" Jeremy asked, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Do I think what's better?"

"Dying. Do you think it'd be better to die then to let them do what they do to us."

Rowan raised his eye brows at this. "Well, you obviously don't."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, 'cos if you did, you'd have done it years ago," Jeremy couldn't deny that he was right. He nodded and closed his eyes.

"He's the youngest they've had."

Rowan looked up in surprise, "Really?"

"Well, the youngest that I've seen, anyway. He's just a kid compared to the rest of us."

"Yeah. At least we've had our time," Rowan said mournfully. "He's only thirty. It's not fair. This shouldn't happen to anyone, but especailly when they're that young."

Jeremy sighed and looked at the large metal doors. "Poor kid's not going to know what hit him."

-...-

Charlie looked about the large room he was standing in. The dusty concrete floor was cold beneath his bare feet, making his shiver slightly. There was a screen that he couldn't see behind, but the rest made it clear that three men were living here. There was a metal bath at one end of the room and at the other end a fridge, three chairs and a table with Charlie's phone ringing on it. Leo sat down to join his companions, who were sitting down on the three chairs. Charlie swallowed and walked towards the phone. "Don't you want to sit down, Charlie?" Leo asked pleasantly.

Charlie looked about him. There were only three chairs and all were occupied. "I'll stand," he said, making a grab for his cell. But before he could reach his phone, Leo had grabbed around the waist and pulled him on to his lap with a thump. Charlie blushed scarlett and mumbled, "I'd rather stand."

"And I'd rather you sit down," Charlie tried to stand up, but the Brit was too strong, gripping him so he all he could do was squirm. "You might want to answer your phone. It's not going to ring forever," He leaned over as far as he could, just grabbing the phone by the tips of his fingers. He looked at the caller ID and his heart leapt when he saw it was Don. But as soon as he was about to flip it open, it stopped ringing. Leo tutted. "You shouldn't have waisted your time, Charlie."

"You should have let me stand," Charlie snarled at him.

"Well, don't worry. I'm sure they'll ring again," He smiled, stroking a few stray curls from Charlie's cheek and pulled him till the mathematician was leaning right against his chest. He looked down warilly at the hands holding his waist. They were a bit too close to his genitalia for comfort. He swallowed at the thought of what had happened last time. "Oh by the way," Leo said, stroking Charlie's face. "I'm sure it's pretty obvious, but you can't tell who ever's ringing you that you're here," A hand reached up Charlie's t-shirt and began to stroke his stomach. He tensed at this unwelcome touch.

"Please stop," he muttered, his anger and fear welled up in his quiet voice.

"Stop?" Leo asked, as if it was the maddest request in the world, "Why on earth would I do that?" Leo placed his lips on Charlie's neck, kissing him, edging closer towards his face. Charlie squeeked, trying his best to jerk away from his lips, but one of Leo's hands landed on his chest, gripping it with a scary feriocity.

"Leo," Michael said in a bored voice. "Focus, please?"

Leo licked his lips hungrilly and sat back in his chair, dragging the reluctant and disgusted Charlie with him to lean against his chest. Charlie's nervous and twitchy hands were gripping the phone so hard, Charlie was terrified he would break it. "Sorry. But it's so hard to concentrate when something so _beautiful_ is sitting on your lap," He felt Leo's cock beneath harden and he squirmed away in horror. "But, yes," he said, his hand returning to fondle Charlie's stomach. "Now, we have to make absolutely sure that you don't let slip that you're here. So, Clark, if you will?" the large man (apparently named Clark) opened the large metal door. He quickly returrned, clutching the hair of one of the men Charlie had seen before. He had gaffa taped his mouth and was holding him by his hair. The man Clark was holding was staring at the ground. He wasn't even struggling, for some unknown reason he couldn't understand.

"Don't hurt him!" Charlie cried out, lunging forward as if in someway he could protect him.

"Don't worry, luv, we're not going to hurt him!" Leo said pulling Charlie back. "Just as long as you say the right words, then he won't get a bullet in his head," Charlie jumped when the phone began to ring, nearly dropping it. With shaking hands, flipped open his phone.

"H-hello?" he heard a deep sigh of relief from the other end.

"Charlie! Are you ok? Why's your bike in the drive and why aren't you at school?" Charlie looked at the man with a gun to his head and swallowed. Telling the truth and causing a death seemed so much worse than lying to his brother.

"Which one of those questions do you want me to answer first?"

"The first one, are you ok?" Charlie could hear the panic in his brother's voice and felt the guilt blossom.

"I-I'm fine, Don. Really," Christ, he could barely convince himself.

"You don't sound it," Don sounded worryingly doubtful and Charlie wished desperately that he had taken drama in high school.

"Don, seriously I'm fine," he tried to sound exasperated, but the guilt that followed seemed to constrict his chest.

"Then where are you? Why's your bike at home?" some how, by some unforeseen miracle, spontaneity slapped Charlie in the face.

"The NSA came to pick me," he said instantly. "I'm sorry I couldn't ring and tell you. I'm lucky they let me take this call."

"You could've said no, you know!"

"Not to this."

There was a pause. "Is it serious?"

"...Yeah," Charlie felt hot tears well up in his eyes again. He wished he could control his emotions better. "I don't know how long I'm staying for," he said, his voice choked up. "I-It... It might be months," he was barely believing this himself, but to tell it to his brother who had no idea what he was going through more torturous and disturbing than sitting on his captor's lap.

"Oh," Charlie could hear the disappointment in his voice and it was almost hurt. He never thought a conversation with his brother could be so painful.

"I'm sorry... but they would let me say goodbye," he apologized, his voice breaking. A tear slid down his face and he bit his lip to help him stop crying.

"Charlie, it's ok! I get it, I know you would've said goodbye if you could."

"J-just tell Dad, that I'm ok."

"Yeah, don't worry Buddy, I will. Charlie, are you sure you're ok?" He wiped the tear on his face and tried to gain a bit more of his composure.

"I'm fine Don... I just wished I could've said goodbye," _I just wished I had gotten into that car with you, _Charlie thought ruefully to himself.

"C'mon Charlie, it's not like you're going away forever! It's not like we'll see each other again," this made another tear slide down his face.

"Yeah, we will," _I hope._

"Time's up," a voice whispered in his ear.

"D-Don, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm not sure when I can ring you again."

"Well, whenever you can call me Charlie do, okay?"

"Yeah. Bye Donnie."

"See ya Buddy," Don hung up and Charlie was left staring at the phone.

"I'm _so _sorry, Charlie," Leo crooned. Charlie turned around and glared at him, unshed tears close to spilling. "That must have been so difficult for you."

"So, who is 'Donnie' then?" Michael asked, grinning. "He wasn't that hottie who was with you this morning was he?" Charlie turned around and glared at him instead. "So he is the guy we saw you with! God, he looked like fun. So who is he to you then? To you, I mean. He's not your boyfriend is he?" Charlie's stomach churned at the very thought of ever seeing Don in that way. Angry and hurt tears slid down his face, but he wiped them away furiously, ashamed that they were seeing him in his moment of weakness. Don wouldn't cry. His stomach plumeted at that thought. But, then again, Don wouldn't go and get himself kidnapped.

"He's not my boyfriend," he spat out angrily.

"Who is he then?"

Charlie paused before sharing the information. If he didn't, they'd probably just taunt him with the idea of Don being his boyfriend again. "He's my brother."

"Ah..." Michael said, obviously intrigued. He cocked his head, gazing at Charlie thoughtfully. "Do you think we need another one Leo?" Charlie paled and choked. Oh god they couldn't drag Don into this! _Oh please, don't do this. I'm enough, I'm enough! _He plead with them silently, his wide eyes watching for Leo's reaction. He was looking Charlie up and down as well. "Nah, we don't need another. This one will do."

-...-

Don shut his phone, put it in his pocket and let out a huge sigh. Although his brother didn't sound happy to be where he was, he was glad - glad didn't even describe how happy that he wasn't hurt or had gone missing. He didn't want to think about what would happen if his baby brother was kidnapped. He picked up the bike and looked down at the drops of blood on the ground, remembering the great swell of panic it had brought. _Must have cut himself on something_ He mused to himself, picking up Charlie's bike and walking with it to the garage. He wished Charlie had had a choice with the NSA; partly because he could have really used his help with this case, but also because of how distressed he sounded over the phone.

It was strange. Usually the NSA gave him a choice, but obviously not this time. It must be serious, if they had to force him to do it. He didn't really fancy like telling his Dad, but if he wasn't going to, no one else would. Charlie definitely didn't sound happy, where ever he was.

-...-

Charlie stumbled back to his mattress, his head reeling. He knew what had happened, that he had been kidnapped, molested and forced to lie to his brother. But it was still so hard to believe. He usually saw this in Don's case files. He didn't think it could happen to him, but then again, everyone said that. It was true though. How was he to know that this morning would be any different to the others. Charlie sat down on the mattress with a heavy thud and clasped one hand over his mouth. He closed his eyes and the hot tears streamed fully down his face. He began to cry silently, his whole body shaking in shock. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and he flnched, turning around to see who it was.

It was Jeremy. He wasn't look at Charlie, but it was him. Not caring that he had know this man for less than 15 minutes, he leant his head against the man's shoulder and started to cry in earnest, his wails echoicing round the large room. But he didn't care. A few of the men looked round to see who it was, but most just kept there heads down. His shaking hands were curled into fists, thw white knuckles potruding as if he was in pain. Rowan moved to the other side of Charlie and rubbed his shuddering back. Jeremy couldn't look at him but continued to hold the sobbing man, the worn out material covering his shoulder growing damp with the young mathematicians' tears. Jeremy and Rowan shared a look, thinking the same thing. If he was upset about this, god only knew what would happen to the poor thing when he found out the true reason why they were all there. The least they could do was hold him and help him, 'til _they_ decided to ruin him. Then, all he could do was his best. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never fix them. This kid, this Charlie was going to be broken. Just like him. Just like the others. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	4. Genius

"Jeremy." Jeremy jumped at the sound of a voice in his ear. He turned round and saw Charlie.

"Oh," Jeremy said, smiling, "Hello Charlie." Jeremy was healing, or attempting to heal the bruises and cuts on once of the mens back. Charlie winced as he saw this.

"Are you okay?" He asked the man. He glanced at Charlie and nodded.

"New kid, right?" Charlie nodded.

"Did they beat you too?" The man and Jeremy exchanged glances.

"They beat everyone up in here kid," The man said, grunting as he shifted his position a little.

"Charlie, how's your bruise?" Jeremy asked. Charlie glanced upwards where a bruise on his forehead was blossoming a rich purple over his pale skin.

"Oh, that's fine. I just came here to ask you something." Jeremy and Tom both glanced to armed men at the walls. Charlie sighed, "It's nothing like _that_,"Charlie said, sounding a bit exasperated, "All I'm asking for is a marker pen." It happened in a flash. Before Charlie knew what was happening, he was pinned to the ground with two semi autmoatics shoved against his head, "Don't shoot me!" Charlie yelped, squirming in terror, "Please, all I wanted was a marker pen, I wasn't trying to escape or anything!"

The soldiers' faces didn't change, cold and unfeeling as ever, "P-please, all I want is a marker pen!" After a few minutes, the semi automatics were pulled from Charlie's head. He hardly had time to sigh in relief before he was hauled to his feet and pushed towards where he knew Leo, Michael and Clark would be. Charlie gulped. The last time he saw them they were all beating him to a pulp. There wasn't any reason for it, none other than Leo whispered words of, _"Just a little practise, luv."_

Charlie decided he would try his best to be brave. Like Don. His heart gave another stab at the thought of his brother. He just shook his head a little and walked into the room. Clark was no where to be seen, but Michael and Leo turned round to see the two soldiers bring Charlie to them. They threw him to his knees infront of them.

Leo raised an eyebrow, "Oh dear Charlie. What have you done now?"

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Charlie yelled, glaring at the soldiers, "I just asked Jeremy if he had a marker pen and they went crazy!" Leo looked between Charlie and the soldiers. "You can go," he told them with a wave of his hand. They nodded and walked out of the room, slamming the huge metal foor behind them. The mathemetician gulped, waiting for Michael and Leo to snap.

After what seemed to Charlie like a long time, Michael finally spoke, "Why do you need a marker pen Charlie?"

Charlie shrugged, "I'm..." He had a suspicion that if he said bored things wouldn't go well. So he just gulped and said instead, "I'm a mathematician. And... I'd like to do some math."

Leo laughed. He reached down and stroked Charlie's face. Charlie flinched, but he didn't move away, knewing the consequences would be dire if he did so, "You think that can convince us? You want to do maths?"

Charlie suddenly grew bold, "I'm a genius!" At this, Michael and Leo burst out laughing, "I can prove it!" Charlie went red as they continued to howl in mirth.

Michael wiped tears from his eyes, "Oh, that is good Charlie, very good."

Charlie glared at them, "Let me prove it to you! Ask me a question, any question."

"Alright," Leo said, grinning, "What's ninety-eight times fifty-six?"

"Five thousand four hundred and eighty-eight." Charlie answered instantly. Their laughter stopped. They stared at Charlie and he glared back at them.

Leo hit Michael's arm, "Check that it's right." Michael picked up the laptop that was on the table and quickly typed in the numbers. His stare turned to Charlie.

"He's right," he whispered.

Leo frowned, "What about six hundred and... Fiftey-seven divided by ninety-three?"

"Seven point zero six four five one six one." Charlie answered, just as fast as before. Michael typed it in furiosly, then stared at the screen.

"How did you know that?" He whispered.

"I told you," Charlie said cooly, "I'm a genius."

Leo and Michael stared at eachother. Was it true that they had kidnapped a genius? They turned from Charlie, muttering in hushed tones while Charlie waited, slightly smug that his gift could spark up such worry in his two captors. They turned back and Charlie's stomach dropped. They were smirking and maliciousness was back in their eyes. What had he done now?

"Alright," Michael said, "We admit that you are... Intelligent." Charlie scoffed, "But, we need to test whether you really are a genius."

"Yeah?" Charlie asked, "How're you going to do that?"

Their smirks grew and Charlie's somach dropped a few more inches. Leo beckoned Charlie to him, "Come a bit closer dear," he said pleasantly. Charlie, reluctantly did as he was told. Leo pulled him up onto his lap and he stiffened. Michael smirked and he and Leo both pulled off Charlie's t-shirt. He grew more self conscious than ever and he wrapped his arms protectively round his stomach. Before he could do anything more, the world went black.

"Careful now Charlie," Michael's voice told him from his left. He took the professor's hands and said, "Just a blindfold."

"I guessed," Charlie snarled, "But why?"

"Stop complaining dear," Leo said, "Trust us, you wouldn't want to see what's coming up next." Charlie gulped and hoped that they were just trying to scare him. Something in his gut told him otherwise though. He was shaken off Leo's lap and their hands guided him roughly where he was meant to go. There is nothing more strange and terrifying than being lead to something you can't see by people who enjoy to hurt you. But Charlie had no choice. He just stumbled and staggered along while they pushed and shoved him to his destination.

He heard a door open and he half wondered whether he would be taken back into the large room where all the men were. But he couldn't hear anyone else breathing, nor did he trip over dirty mattresses. So where was he? They stopped walking and for a moment, he half wondered whether Michael and Leo had left him. Then, he heard chains rattle and he felt someone shackle him to them. It didn't take a genius to realise that the situation had gone very, very bad.

Charlie gulped, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. He frowned in confusion as he heard tapping. They had a laptop with them? Why? What the hell would they need a laptop for? He heard some rustling, a few murmered words, then, finally, Leo spoke, "Tell me Charlie-dear, what is two hundred and sixty divided by ninety-seven?"

"Two point six eight for one two three," Charlie answered, hardly daring to believe his luck.

"And what is nine hundred and eighty four times six hundred and fifty one?"

"Sixty four thousand five hundred and eighty-four," Charlie replied. He couldn't deny he was relaxing a little. Math was what he knew best. Numbers he could trust. Numbers had no opinion of anything and they never lied and they had never let Charlie down.

"Two thousand and five divided by six hundred and four?"

"Three point three one nine five."

"Seven hundred times five point two?"

"Three thousand and sixty."

"Eight hundred and sixty two divided by six hundred and fifty four?"

"One point three zero two seven five."

"Do any perfect odd numbers exist?"

"I... What?"

"Do any odd perfect numbers exist?"

Charlie's jaw hung open. His stomach sank about ten feet. "B-but... But it's unsolvable! No one knows the answer!"

"I thought you were a genius?" Leo whispered in his ear. Charlie felt sick. He trembled a little as he realised what they had done, how they had turned the one thing he was good at against him. They would ask him unsolvable math questions and, of course, he would have no answer.

"What's the answer Charlie?" Michael asked. Charlie could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I... There isn't one." Charlie hung his head, his voice barely over a whisper, "I don't know."

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and pain flared across Charlie's back like he'd never felt before. He screamed, arching his back in pain. It felt like some one had burnt his skin, he could feel blood form from where he had been hit. Gasping, it took him a few minutes to realize that it had been whip. Someone had whipped his back and now he was shuddering as blood trailed down his spine.

"For every answer you get wrong," Leo said, "You will get punished."

"B-but... It's not my fault," Charlie rasped, still trying to regain control over his breathing.

Another loud crack and another howl of pain. "You will not talk back!" Leo screamed, "You will not lie and you will not talk back and when you get an answer wrong, you will be punished!"

Charlie bit back a whimper. The skin on his back felt like it was on fire. "Do you understand?" Leo roared at him.

"Yes," Charlie whispered.

Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes as he wondered if he would ever get himself and his big ego out of this mess.

...

"What is it?"

Don looked up. "What's what?"

Colby sighed, "Something's bothering you man."

Don frowned, "Nothing's bothering me."

Colby raised an eyebrow, "Come on, admit it. You're worried about Charlie."

Don rolled his eyes and sighed, "I am not worried about Charlie." Colby continued to stare at him. Don sighed again, "Are you just going to keep staring at me 'til I tell you otherwise?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Don ran a hand through his hair, "I just think it's all a bit too..."

"Hinky?"

Don looked up, narrowing his eyes, "You've been watching too much NCIS," he murmered.

"I have not!" Colby exclaimed.

"I know you only watch it 'cause you've got hots for the goth girl."

"Her name's Abbey and I don't have the hots for her," It was Don's turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow.

Colby sighed, "Look, what were you going to say before I said hinky?"

Don looked at him for a moment, before breaking his gaze, "Something just doesn't seem right."

"How so?" Colby asked.

"Well, for one he just left his bike abandoned in the drive way and that thing's like his pride and joy, he wouldn't just leave it there for someone to rob."

"Maybe they had to leave in a hurry?" Colby suggested.

"What, in such a hurry that he couldn't even put it in the garage? Such a hurry he couldn't even say good by to dad? Such a hurry that he couldn't even pack?"

Colby frowned, "What?"

"He didn't pack. His suitcase and clotes were all there. He didn't pack anything. Not one thing."

Colby blinked, then his frown deepened. "Do you think Charlie was kidnapped?"

"I don't know... I don't know." Don sighed. "It's been over two weeks Colby and not since that first phone call has he rung up. I know he gets busy at times, but this is different."

Colby pinched the bridge of his nose, evidently thinking hard. "I don't suppose you can call the NSA," he murmered.

Don shook his head, "No, they wouldn't be able to say whether Charlie is working with them or not."

"What was Charlie like when you called him?" Colby asked.

"Emotional. He was really upset that he didn't get to say good bye... Said it might be months til he could see me again. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears," Don sighed, "Christ, if he really has been-"

"Then it isn't your fault," Colby said firmly, "Don, we don't even know that he even _has _been kidnapped yet!"

"I know," Don murmered, "But what if he has?"

Colby didn't say anything. They sat in silence for a moment, each of them wondering what would happen if Charlie had been kidnapped. The thought of it made shivers run up and down Colby's spine. He may be Don's brother, but he meant something to Colby too; he meant something to all of them now. After a few minutes, Colby got out his phone and flipped it open.

"Who are you calling?" Don asked, still very much down hearted.

"A friend of mine. He works in the NSA and he owes me a favor. He can check if Charlie's on an assignment now or not."

Don nodded, "Hey Colby?"

"Yeah boss?"

Don managed a tired smile, "Thanks."

Colby smiled back, "You're welcome."

...

_Crack!_

"What's the answer!"

"I-I... There isn't one!"

Another loud crack.

"But isn't there an answer to everything dear?"

"N-no!"

_Crack!_

"P-please, I don't know!"

"What is the answer!"

"I don't know!" Charlie's voice dry from screaming in agony. He barely had time to breathe before another loud crack came from the whip. He tugged hopelessly at his chains, praying that someone, _anyone _would save him.

"You said you were a genius!" Leo roared.

"I-I am!"

"Do not lie!" Leo screamed and he cracked the whip against Charlie's already bleeding back.

"I-I'm not!" Charlie sobbed, tears soaking his blindfold, "P-please, I'm not lying, I swear!"

"You _are _lying!" Another crack. Another howl of pain. "You are not a genius," Leo snarled, "And we are going to stay here until you realize that!" Charlie hiccuped and whimpered, his shaking legs barely able to hold him any more.

The whip cracked again, "Say it! Say you aren't a genius. Say it!"

"I-I'm... I'm not a-"

Leo had walked round to face Charlie and the whip smacked against his chest. Charlie let out a scream, the end of the bloody whip catching his jaw. "Say it!"

"I'm not a genius!" Charlie whimpered.

"Say it again!"

"I-I'm not a genius."

_Crack! _"Say it!"

"I'm not a genius!" Charlie bellowed, sobs wracking his chest, the whip marks making it hard to breathe. "I'm not a genius!" Charlie said it over and over again, the words sounding strange on his tounge.

"Do you know what you are?" Leo hissed in his ear.

"N-no," Charlie whimpered.

Leo leaned in and whispered silkly into his ear, "You, darling, are a whore."

Charlie choked on a sob. He squeazed his eyes tightly, as if that could some how block out the harsh words being told to him. After a few moments, he realized it made no difference; he was still blindfolded. "You're nothing but our pretty little whore," Leo said in a sing song voice, smirking.

"Not true," Charlie whispered.

"Excuse me?" Michael asked. Neither of them had been expecting that.

"I'm not a whore!" Charlie said louder, "I'm not!" He squeazed his eyes tight, waiting for the onimous crack to ring through the air. But nothing happened. He stiffed as he felt someone press their lips against his ear.

"No, you're not. But you will be."

...

Don was falling asleep at his desk, his head lolling forward onto his chest. He looked like the very picture of exhaustion, dark circles beneath his eyes, giving him a stange look in the dim light. Colby wasn't quite as bad as Don, though he too was tired after this case. They could have really used Charlie's help on this one.

"Er... Boss?" Colby tentatively poked Don's shoulder. He woke up with a start, looking around him wildly. When his eyes fell on Colby, he slumped back in his chair.

"Oh," he said, yawning, "Hey Colby."

"Hey Don," Colby said, his voice tense with agitation.

Don frowned, "Everything okay?" he asked, stretching his aching limbs.

Colby took a deep breath, "Don..."

Don raised an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"My friend called back. Don... Charlie's not on any cases." Don sat up in his chair, staring at Colby, "I had him double check. He's not working with the NSA."

"Oh my god," Don sat back in his chair, staring into space, "Charlie's been kidnapped. Oh my god, he's been kidnapped."

...

Charlie was hardly conscious. He hung limply from the chains, the only things keeping him up. Blood dripped from his skin, splashing onto the floor. He let out a small moan as he heard someone walk in the room. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened. He must have passed out at some point because some one was returning to the room, not leaving it.

He felt rough hands pull his blindfold off and he squinted in the dim light. He was too bedazzled to see anything clearly, though he could make at the grey, grimy colour of the heard a click and his arm was free. He lurched to the floor, his feet hardly managed to keep him up any longer. Another click and his left arm was free. He cradled both to his chest, shivering in the cold. He felt someone pull him along and he was too weak to bother protesting or to care where he was going.

Charlie squinted in the bright light, his eyes beginning to stream with pain. He was led into a room and was pushed inside. He stood there, swaying, wondering whether he would soon topple over. He heard people rush to him and he whimpered loudly, his pathetic noises echoing round the room.

"Oh Charlie," a worried voice muttered in his ear, "I told you not to ask for anything!"

For a moment, Charlie thought it was his father, his agitation reminding him so strongly of him. He was home and he had just gotten into another scrape with Don's work. But, then he realized it was Jeremy. And he was stuck in this hell hole once more, being tortured and humiiated. He didn't even notice he was crying till the tears were wiped from his face.


End file.
